The darkness seemed to consume her, she wasn't alone and yet the feeling she had was that of complete isolation. She wanted to tell her friend about the darkness that was surrounding her but the dark thoughts, the darkness surrounding her was hard to describe. Maybe it was the new people? The lack of activity? The lack of medication? The last being the most likely. Yet it was hard to accept that. The need she had of her medication to just feel normal, to just feel human. One drop, two drops, next thing you know it'll be three. She tried to go without, she doesn't know when she would be able to get more, so how was she to use it all. What if there was a day she needed it more than at this moment? It didn't seem worth it to her. The need for the medication felt like addiction, but she could stop it. Yet the medication helped her so much. She never abused it, she took it as she was directed and yet, it never seemed like enough. She craved more. She wanted to be normal again, wanted to be who she was, but it could never be here again.
Looking at the photos that seemed to swarm her made it seem like it was bad to have let it affect her. She knew it wasn't going to be the same when she got back. Was this anxiety? Depression? Borderline PTSD? Probably all of the above, but she would never admit it. Not to anyone, not even the friend she sat with, listening to music. The darkness had already consumed her as she thought. The fan above her was tempting to look at, but with that movement came the movement of thought. "I'm not alone."
